The Flip Side
by squeezi
Summary: Gnarly was a rich girl when she was little. She went into hiding after her parents died and her disorder took over. Years later, she finds her old friend and crush, Flippy, who has the same kind of disorder. She wants his evil side to take over so that they can take over the town and make things their way.
1. A change of character

**Hey, squeezi here! This is my second story and I'm really excited about this now that I know how to work on fanfics the right way. Don't forget to review and check out my other fanfic ****Some things are just splendid!**

Gnarly's POV

When I was a little girl, I had long silky hair that went down to the middle of my back. I hated my long hair, but everyone else seemed very fond of it. My parents, who were filthy rich, wanted to keep their daughter looking like a nice young lady and forbade me to cut my hair.

I tried to cut my hair once, when I was seven, my mother screamed when she saw my scraggled hair. I was smacked upside the head and my parents bought me a wig.

I always put bobby pins in my emerald green hair, the only thing I could do to my hair.

I remember my mother sang to me while she combed my hair.

Mother had lime green hair and dark blue eyes. I don't think I got my dark emerald green eyes from her. She always kept her hair down.

"You're hair is beautiful, Finni." she would say.

Finnigan, my real name is Finnigan. Even though I may hate my hair, I love my name. I never knew how my name was picked. I knew my parents didn't pick it out, they're too proper to ever even think of such a tomboy name. And that's why I love my name, it's not proper at all, unlike my parents.

"Mommy, I don't like my hair, it's too long and dainty. I want it short, I like it scraggly."

"Well, that proves you're not my child. You're just a brat living in my house." She muttered.

"I don't like _your_ hair either."

I got smacked across the face.

I smiled, daring her to do it again.

"Do it again," I said.

She looked at me in horror and smacked me again, "Show some respect, you brat! If you don't, I'll throw you into the streets!"

"I hate trying to be proper anyway." I muttered.

The truth is that I never even _liked_ my parents. They were foul beasts corrupt by money. There only goal, being more than accepted, but being better.

I was known as the odd rich girl. Always alone in the garden, staring up at the sky.

For fun, I went to town tucking my hair inside of my newsboy cap, wearing an old grey shirt and tattered jacket with some corduroys.

I liked the bad parts of town, that's where I felt at home. That's where I saw the world as it was. But mostly, I did it for Flippy.

A boy one year older than me, he always wore army green cargo pants and jacket, a black tee shirt, dog tags, and an army beret. He had straight emerald hair that stuck out from under his beret and matching emerald eyes.

I knew we both had the same disorder, the contrary personality syndrome. Flippy called his split personality Flipqy. Flippy was ten at the time, so Flipqy would take over for the maximum of two minutes. It is said, over time your split personality will stay longer and longer.

I have a different kind of contrary personality disorder, where both of my personalities would one day blend into one. But something would have to trigger this. I was nine at the time and nothing had happened yet.

Every day Flippy sat at an opening of an alley, smoking. Of course he was underaged, but no one seemed to care.

I looked at the Granny Smith apple I brought and walked over to him.

I tossed him the apple, which he easily caught.

"Hey, pretty, little, rich girl," he said as I sat down next to him. He snatched my hat and threw it on the ground, releasing my long green hair.

"You're dad kicked you out of the house again?"

He bit into the apple.

"When doesn't he?" Flippy said, with his mouth still full.

He swallowed his bite and blew his apple/smoker breath in my face.

Flippy knew I liked him and he made fun of me because of it.

I leaned the back of my head on the brick wall behind us.

"When he's sober," I said, seriously.

We both laughed hysterically. Flippy's dad was never sober.

My cell phone rang, I looked at the caller ID. It was from the police.

Flippy saw the caller ID.

"You might want to start running," I joked, putting the phone up to my ear.

"Shit, they're on to me!"

We both laughed. Then, I answered the phone.

After hanging up, I said, "Hey Flips, I gotta go. They want me at the Maple Springs highway."

I grabbed my cap.

"Did someone get in trouble?" He taunted me.

"I don't think so, I haven't done anything."

"Well, you better go."

I stood up, took off his hat, and ruffled his hair.

He smiled and snatched the beret back.

"Bye," I said. Then, I took off.

Maple Springs wasn't far away from where I was, so it took me ten minutes of walking to get to the highway. The highway was usually busy, but right then, part of the road was blocked off.

Four police cars blocked off part of the road, creating traffic. Behind them, was the remains of my parents' car.

I started running towards the scene to find my parents dead.

Their eyes were open, bodies bloody, and faces in shock.

That's when I snapped.

"I'm sorry, Finni, we called the ambulance, but it's already too late." One police officer said.

"Was her eyes always yellow?" I heard one police officer whisper.

I started laughing hysterically.

"Are you okay," a policeman said, putting his arm on my shoulder.

I jerked his hand off my shoulder.

"Get off me," I snapped.

I bent down to my parents' dead bodies and touched my mother's stomach. Blood dripped from my hand. I chuckled and licked my fingers. I started laughing.

"Get her to her house," a policeman frantically said.

My evil side had finally shown up.


	2. Leaving

**Hey guys, I'm really tired right now, so just read and review.**

Gnarly's POV

I never thought how confusing it would be when my evil side showed up and mixed in with my personality. I was always filled with mixed emotions. Sometimes I was sensitive, snappy, or even psychotic.

After recovering for a week, I packed up a lot of money. The police was talking about sending me to an orphanage because they couldn't find any blood related family. I wasn't going to let that happen.

I grabbed my brown newsboy cap, put on a grey old shirt, a tattered beige overcoat, and some corduroys. I was at my front door, then I turned around to get one last look at the house.

_I'll never come back, this house is too filled with bad memories_

I decided to go downtown, known for being the bad parts of town. I wanted to see Flippy.

He was smoking in the alley again.

He saw me and threw down the cigarette. He embraced me in his arms. He was acting like I was going to cry, which I had no intentions of doing. I had never cried in front of him before, I wouldn't dare to embarrass myself like that. But enjoying the moment, I nudged my nose into his shoulder.

"I heard about what happened, I'm sorry." he said in my ear.

I still stood motionless, with my nose still pressed up against his shoulder.

"You can cry if you want, after all you've been through." He said.

"There's no reason you should be apologizing, there is no reason to cry."

"What are you talking about!" He said letting go of me.

"I hated them anyway."

"Are you okay?"

"They died Flippy, okay! There's nothing I can do about it!"

"Something's wrong with you."

"Nothing's wrong with me!"

"Something about you has changed!"

He looked straight into my eyes and looked at them in curiosity.

I looked down at the ground.

He lifted my chin, forcing me to stare at him.

He took his hand off my chin and touched my cheek.

"Your eyes, they're yellow."

"Yeah, they've been like that lately."

"I recognize these yellow eyes, my eyes turn that color when Flipqy comes out."

He looked at me as if someone had stabbed him.

"Don't tell me-," he said with his voice cracking.

He grabbed me and pulled me close to him again.

His tear drops that fell on to my shoulder made me feel uncomfortable and yet compassionate.

_Why is it that I am afraid to cry in front of him, but now he's clinging on to me, sobbing into my shoulder, like it's no big deal? Besides, why is he crying?_

"Not yet, it's too soon. That disorder, I hate it!" He yelled.

I never knew how touchy he was about the disorder. Not his disorder, but my disorder and how it would affect me once it took over.

Flippy rubbed his eye and smiled.

"I'm sorry, I'm making a fool out of myself and you're not shedding a tear. You're not shedding a tear about _anything_ that's just happened to you."

"Well, if I-"

"I'm sorry I won't be able to help you get through this." He cut me off.

"What do you mean?"

"My dad's sending me off to boot camp." He said sitting back down on the ground, back leaned against the brick wall.

I sat down too.

"The police were about to send me to an orphanage, I'm running away."

"What?!"

"I want you to come with me."

He looked down at the ground, "I want to, but my dad said that if I ran away, he'd find me and shoot me."

He looked at me and smiled,"Here."

He handed me his army Swiss knife.

"But this is yours."

"I'll steal another one from my dad."

He looked at me, "Please don't go."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I'll have something to come back for, after boot camp."

"Go join the army, like you've always wanted to. You can't spend your whole life taking care of me."

He looked at the ground, "You really _are_ going, aren't you?"

_He's weak, kill him! _A voice said inside my head.

I was unable to control myself as I turned psychotic.

"Such a pretty face, too bad I have to kill you," I said, stroking the knife across his cheek.

I raised the knife, ready to stab his face. As I dove the knife, Flippy raised his arm to block his face. Instead, I slashed his arm.

Blood started coming out. I snapped back into reality before I was able to do anymore damage.

I looked at Flippy, he was laughing and crying at the same time.

_This is what he was afraid of _

"Don't blame yourself, it's who you are now," he said calmly.

_He is the one with blood gushing out of his arm and he's comforting me? _

Tears started to build up, but I didn't want to cry in front of him.

"No, it not! This is not who I am!"

I looked at him, "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't be."

_It's gotten to the point where it's painful to look at him_

"I have to go," I muttered.

"I never knew your name."

"It was Finni. It was always Finni."

He smiled and scoffed, "Good, I won't have to call you the pretty, little, rich girl. You're not one anymore."


End file.
